


come ͟b̕ack

by SansThePacifist



Series: Undertale Stories [9]
Category: Undertale, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anyways, I meant well, M/M, Other, Swearing, ahahahah help, and im rambling in the tags of a story, angst is was easier to write, because i have found out i absolutely SUCK at fluff, but i dont think i portrayed them wall, error is the yin and ink is the yang, good idea, i am not a creative person, i cant remember all of them, i dont think i portrayed them /well/, i might decide to continue this, i think i broke error, idk - Freeform, if i make another chapter it might just be hurt/comfort, ink is soulless lmao, inspired by a lot of works, oh well, poor error couldnt take the shock, poor error needs a break, so uh, well.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansThePacifist/pseuds/SansThePacifist
Summary: Error finds out about Ink and the fact that he doesn't have a soul. He couldn't take it in the end.((the story is way better than that summery- i hope))





	come ͟b̕ack

To think the monster in front of him was the ‘Creator’- well, to be frank, he did look like one, but he sure didn’t _act it_. He just protected shit most of the time, the only things Error knew he made were things like trees and fixing up things. Like that one time he fixed his wounds with his paintbrush. Either way, he was sleeping so soundly, if Error didn’t know any better, he would say that the skeleton was an angel. But did he truly know better? Ink was a jerk, the Yang of their complicated relationship. Of course, he, Error, would be seen as the Yin, the evil one, while Ink got away with making mistakes, being seen as the wonderful and kind Yang. They can’t exist without the other, if one died, another would come to live.

It was a terrible cycle, yet it seemed that he, Ink, would never understand what goes through his mind. They- the timelines- _AUs_.. They weren’t meant to exist. It was supposed to be two people, the yin and yang, constantly fighting, and the original, classic, timeline. But even then, if the classic timeline had died off somehow, if it had gotten destroyed, then they would have nothing to protect nor destroy, and so, would fade away.

That was what he believed anyways, seeing as they were technically versions of the original sans. Did the voices truly think he didn't know that? Wouldn’t they know by now that just because you destroy the _GL̨I͟TC͢H͟E͡S̶_  doesn't mean you don't understand what you are saying.

His thoughts shifted rather quickly when Ink moved- no, adjusted himself. Was he uncomfortable? The anti-void is one of the most comfortable places to be, to sleep, ink should understand that, seeing as there is nothing to push against his joints, no bumps to put things out of line. Besides that, why was he sleeping here? Doesn’t he hate the vast emptiness?

To think he was falling hard for the rainbow asshole. It didn't make sense, how could he feel so for another glitch like him? No, Ink wasn’t just a glitch, he was a creator- no. _THE_ creator. God he was such an idiot, the voices yelled, no, screeched at him, how could he fall for him.

They yelled. They screamed. They talked as if he wasn’t there, speaking to each other, giving away details.

No, he hadn’t noticed that ink was starting to wake up, but the voices seemed to tune out after one mentioned that the Creator was starting to stir settling to whispers instead, almost as if Ink could hear them. He kicked Ink, way harder than he intended, but it worked.

“ **wak̢e̡ u͢p̷.** ”

Of all the things he could have said, that ended up harsher than he intended, and despite him saying it lower than he usually would have, glitches still littered the wording, halting and cutting back multiple times just to get the short sentence out fully. He sounded like a broken tape. The voices made that clear many times, yet they came back louder than before, screaming at him once again.

They screamed at the top of their lungs but he was the only one to hear them. Why wouldn’t they just leave him alone? He almost snapped back at them loudly, something that would have ended as an argument that no one would understand or hear, and that isn’t exactly the best thing to do in front of your cr- arch nemesis. Yeah. That made sense.

Ink blinked wearily, sitting up quickly before blinking once again, the shapes in his eyes changing to another one, their colors also turning into something different. Error wouldn’t admit it, but Inks eyes had always fascinated him, the way they changed whenever the other skeleton would blink. He could clearly remember when he basically stopped the first battle that he noticed to just ask Ink how he did it. Of course, it had caught him off guard, but he continued the battle soon enough after he started to ramble about some unnecessary information. To be frank, he didn’t expect the long answer he got, expecting some bullshit answer like ‘magic’. Which… Wouldn’t exactly be far off. They _were_ made out of magic, after all.

The colorful skeleton blinked once again, “what.” He was confused. What was error doing here- no, why didn’t he use the opportunity to kill the protector in his sleep? “You didn’t take the chance to kill me?”

“ **you ͟s̶erio̴usly͢ ̶t̨h̨ink th̴a͟t i ͠w҉ould̕ ҉ki̕ll yo͢u ̸witho̶ut̶ a figh̡t̢?** ” Yes. Yes he did. Error practically scoffed, “ **i̛t̷'͜d bę a w͟ast̡e̡.** ” Good answer, yeah? He wouldn’t want to admit that he didn’t because he thought the other was cute. That would be weird and make him seem- no, he just didn’t want to admit to anyone that he had a crush on the small artist. Ink was obviously still half-asleep, so even if Error had said what he was thinking, Ink probably would have forgotten it. But he was unpredictable, his memory was basically dead every time he got distracted.

“It would have been easier..” Well, that much was true.

“ **i li̷k̴e ̧h̨ea̵ri͞n̕g yo̷u͜ ̷scr͠e͜am ̕m͡or͏e.** ” And that sounded terrible. _Perfect_ . Errors grin widened, well, it wasn’t exactly wrong. Ink begging to be let free- a dream come true. But, most of the time, it was just him begging for the pesky _glitches_ that he seems to have come to love. Why? Error didn’t understand any of the shitty speeches Ink would give him about how the timelines were made by people and blah blah blah. It was annoying anyways.

Well, not to Ink himself, but to the terrible concept. He didn’t like it _nor_ accept it. It made no sense. They were just glitches on the radar, so what if they had feelings. So what if people of some weird outer-realm made them? He didn’t give a shit.

Inks eyebrow twitched. “Not like you don’t do your fair share of destroying.” And Ink was upset. He just woke up and is already pissed off at Error. Good job, bucko.

“ **i͝t'͟s ͟not li̢ke̷ yo̡u͠ d̡o̡ ̶yo͞ur͞ ̨fai̛r ͢shar҉e̴ ͠o̵f protec̢ti͜ng ͘those** **_m̷i͘͜ş͞͞t̵a̛k̴e҉̡s_ ** **.͡** ” The last word was practically dripping with malice, despite the fact he was trying to hold back on making Ink more upset than he already is. Besides, it would be a shame to have to tie Ink up, wouldn’t it?

…

Not really. Actually, that idea seemed rather nice, considering that then, he wouldn’t have to kill the groggy artist. Maybe, just maybe, he could get a bit of begging out of him. But that would most likely mean torturing him. Not exactly the brightest idea he has had, especially seeing as he had a tendency to vomit ink, as he had found out the hard way, and had a huge ass paintbrush as a weapon. Who the fuck would think up this shit? The better question would be _why would someone think up this shit?_ It made no sense to him, infuriated him even, cleaning ink off and out of his clothes isn’t as easy as it would seem.

Ink basically hissed at him and Error only grinned in response. Sadly, the hiss wasn’t the only thing the shortie was going to do, “they are _not_ mistakes.” To say that Error was used to seeing and hearing Ink speak through clenched teeth would most likely be misleading. Error likes to piss him off as much as possible be it after or before a fight, but, you know, just for fun. “They are people and they have _emotions_ . Unlike _you_.” Touche.

“ **aw,** **_͡i͘ņky̵_ ** **,̧ i̛'m al͟m̡ǫs̨t ͟hur̨t.** ” Well, he was used to it. The banter that went between the at the moment could be considered child's play considering how it could get when they get serious. Well, at least when _Error_ gets serious. It’s all just a game of catch until cheating and bad sportsmanship comes into play. Of course, he couldn’t exactly say that he was the best at making a joke out of everything, heck, he manages to overreact to many more things than one would think possible. Heck, Fresh has managed to get a reboot from him once or twice… Or  fifty times. That parasite tends to get on his every nerve. Ink seemed to be ready to retort, but Error continued, “ **yo̸u ͢a͏ct lik̕e ̕i̢ ͜ca͠r̕e̴.** ”

Ouch. Ink flinched slightly, taken aback by how bluntly Error had said so. He knew the glitchy skeleton didn’t really care about how the people in AU’s had emotions or that their creators worked really hard on them. He just did what he wanted, destroying timeline after timeline, not even giving a damn if Ink broke a leg and arm… Or all of his limbs for that matter. Heck, he laughed at him that one time, asking why he was so determined to continue, and then tuned out the speech that came with it.

“Well, you _should_.” Ink huffed, “Even if they don’t affect you, emotions tend to be a major role in the lives of others.”

“ **li̸ke y̡o̶u?** ” Ink hesitated.

“No.” Taken by surprise, Error blinked. No, that didn’t make sense. If emotions weren’t a huge role in decision making for ink, than either he is apathetic or doesn’t have emotions. But then how would he have acted so weirdly about those glitches. It didn’t make any sense! The glitches that clung to him sped up, error signs multiplying before fading away quickly. Of course, his eyes had turned blank in the weird way he does, completely freezing. A few slow minutes past as the reboot went through the processing. It must have been a huge surprise.

“ **W̷ḩ-͢** **_w̢͜h҉̢̢a҉t͞?̷͡_ ** ” He had suddenly reanimated, continuing as if nothing had happened. Either way, he didn’t know what else to say. Was there even anything to say to that? If there was anything to say to that, well, he couldn’t think of much. “ **_H̴̸͟͟o̡̨͠҉͢w͏?̛̛͏_ ** ” And he was mentally freaking out. Ink shrugs.

“How what?”

Error gave vague hand motions to Ink and then just gave up, “ **h̨o͜w̛ ̢hav̶e y̧ou ҉b͜e̢ęn ̛so ̵a͠tta͜ched t̵o͠ ͡the͢ ̷un̕i͏verseş ҉t͞hen?** ”

“Well, i don’t have a soul,” He doesn’t have a soul?? “So i drink out of the color vials.” He fell in love with an asshole who doesn’t know what emotions truly are like, let alone what it feels like to have a soul. His vision got blinded once again by a mass of ‘error’ signs covering his eyes. Well, he certainly didn’t expect that. No, he didn’t want this either. But it explained _so much_.

He refused to believe it though, incredibly glitched laughter managed to some through the static, muting itself out. No, this didn’t make sense, why was he lying to himself. How would a monster survive life without a soul? How? Just.. how? “ **y͠ou͘ ͜ar̕e j͏o͜k͡in̸g.** ” He spent all this time fighting a soulless being? He spent all of this time falling more and more, deeper and harder, for him, yet, in the end, he couldn’t feel love. He’s such an _i̛D͢I̛O̴̢͞T_.

“I am not.” He, Error, is the one always making jokes about having people wrapped around his fingers like a string, yet, it seems he was the one made a fool out of in the end. His eyes still hadn’t cleared up even after a considerable amount of time and Ink would rather not sit in silence with a clear yet static filled buzzing noise. The protector got up, “I’m leaving.”

“ **W͞-̨w͡ait̛..̷!** ” But alas, his intervention was too late, and with a swing of a brush, Error was left to his lonesome self. He blinked, mumbling something in response to the voices, confusion and shock evident. He didn’t see that coming. He didn’t expect himself to reach out either, “ **c̶ome͢ ҉b͟ack..** ”

After a few slow seconds, he let his hand drop. What was he trying to do? He was so angry at himself and the voices were conflicted. He didn’t know what to say or do, forcing himself to sit down and mess with some of the strings.

The voices continued to scream at him, at each other, some trying to calm down the rest, some just trying to calm error. It made no sense, why were they so conflicted? Did they know that already? Why wouldn’t they had told him? He let out a frustrated growl, throwing the strings to the side and watching as they just sat there in a tangled mess. They didn’t dissipate, nor did they bounce away. It just stayed there, plaguing his mind. He stared at it for a while, progressively getting more and more angry at himself, more and more angry at the world, more and more angry at whatever kept him destroying.

Be it his sanity breaking, or some other form of self control, he became limp before laughing. Something, some sort of liquid, fell from his face, obscuring his vision. He didn’t even ponder upon what was happening to him or what it was, he just continued to laugh. He already knew what was happening. They were tears, right? Which meant, he was sad. He didn’t feel sad.

He felt empty. The voices began to whisper to him, sweet things, the screaming ones almost being pushed to the back of his mind. Why..? Why? WHY?

It made no sense, nothing made sense! He has to escape, he has to, go somewhere else, somewhere where these thoughts aren’t the only thing on his mind! He scratched at himself, by this point, in hysterics.

He wanted to run, to scream, to fight, to kill, to do something. Something other than stay here. He wanted to die! Why won’t the world let him die? They screamed at him to stop. They cried for him to relax. They yelled for him to get more angry, to _kill_. They wanted him angry! They wanted him sad! They wanted him happy! They wanted him dead!

 

But of course. Despite everything, there was something in him that felt so calm. It knew that time was nothing in the Anti-void. Doing nothing was pointless. That part of him made the scratching stop, it made everything stop. It made him pick back up the strings, find his needles, and start doing whatever it was despite his shaking hands and blurred vision. Sewing? Crochet? It didn’t really matter. He didn’t care what it was called.

The voices were still screaming at him.

  
  
  


 

 

He wished everything would just disappear.


End file.
